


The Battle of Fort Mackinac 1812: How England (briefly) got his pirate groove back.

by rev_lady_mal



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Fort Mackinac, M/M, War of 1812
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-21
Updated: 2016-02-21
Packaged: 2018-05-22 07:23:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6070318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rev_lady_mal/pseuds/rev_lady_mal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's 1812, and America thinks he can whip England's butt again. England still has a lesson to teach him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Battle of Fort Mackinac 1812: How England (briefly) got his pirate groove back.

The deafening roar of cannon fire made America instinctively fall out of bed onto the barracks floor still half asleep. His left hand landed on the toe of a boot, but even in the dark he knew it wasn't his. He felt his throat constrict when an all too familiar voice hissed at him, "Wakey wakey." 

America looked up in the direction of the voice that instantly made him feel like a child again and in the soft but growing light of early dawn saw the barrel of England's flintlock, primed and cocked and pointing right at his head.

"Get off the bloody floor, git." England spat out, moving the pistol with America as he slowly rose to his feet. America became fully awake at that point, but no less confused at England's behavior or why cannons were firing so early in the morning. How the hell did he find him here of all places?

"You're probably wondering how I found you here." England stated while glancing at America's bare legs sticking out from under his night shirt. "Since when do you take fishing holidays?"

"There's good fishing here." America said through gritted teeth. "Mind if I put some pants on?" He didn't like the way England kept looking at his legs,

England smirked and waved his pistol towards the wall where a pair of breeches hung on a peg, "By all means go right ahead, and don't feed me this 'there's good fishing's here' bollocks, why are you really on this miserable excuse of an island in the middle of nowhere?" 

America never took his eyes off of England as he jammed his feet into the legs of his breeches. "Fudge."

England's grin fell off his face and his expansive eyebrows disappeared into his hairline. "Eh? Did you just say fudge?"

It was America's turn to grin, "Yeah, fudge. Try the maple. Speaking of maple, nice 'Eh' you just let loose there. Been spending some time in Canada?" America's grin grew wider and he couldn't help but give England a knowing wink as to why he would have been in Canada recently.

England scowled at America and lifted his boot to kick him towards the door. It landed with a satisfying thud on his backside and made the boy yelp. "That's enough of your cheek! Outside! I have a surprise waiting."

America walked out of the barracks with England and his pistol close behind. They turned towards the north and then America saw in the growing sunlight the source of the cannon fire. It wasn't the fort's own cannon being fired, but one of two British six pounders on the ridge above, one pointing southeast towards the habour and Lake Huron beyond, still smoking from being fired, the other angled down into the fort itself. The men in their bright red uniform coats standing next to it told the young country all he needed to know. England, his grin getting wider with each passing moment next had America turn and look down on the beach below the fort. Huddled together, some still in their night clothes from being dragged from their beds were the townspeople of the island, surrounded by armed British soldiers. Three of them stood together in the front waving a white flag. 

"Please sir!" One of them shouted up at the fort, "They have soldiers and artillery, and indians too! We're outnumbered!"

The sun just then peeked over the edge of the water, casting an eerie glow onto England's red coat as he stood before America with the biggest, smuggest grin. He waved his pistol in little circles in front of America's face and continued where he left off inside the barracks, "Well boy, here's how I see it. We have you completely surrounded, outnumbered 3 to 1, and my artillerymen are ready to turn this fort into Swiss cheese." The older country stopped to look up again at the ridge where his cannons waited, "This fort has a serious design flaw by the way, built into the side of a hill."

America couldn't contain his anger another minute "Well, you should know, after all ... YOU FUCKING BUILT IT!!!"

England spun around and jammed the barrel of the pistol under America's chin. "Mind your colonial tongue boy!" The young country's angry eyes looked down at England who lowered his pistol before punching America in the guts, sending him into the dirt. America gasped and coughed as he watched England's black boots walk towards the young officer in charge of the small garrison of American soldiers stationed at the fort.

"So what will it be? fight and die, or surrender and live?" England smiled broadly at the young man and started waving the pistol in the air like a metronome. "live or die live or die live or die don't forget the nice townspeople below live or die live or die live or die ..."

"Live! Er ... I mean surrender, we surrender!" The commander stuttered out, frowning and looking down at the ground. 

"GOOOOOOOOD! That wasn't so bad now was it? Lets go down and let the townspeople in on the good news shall we?" The British soldiers guarding the small group of American soldiers began marching them out of the fort. With an evil smile, England walked over to where America still knelt in the dirt and pulled him up by his ear, getting far too much satisfaction from America's loud grunt of pain. "Come along, you have got to see what happens next." 

They followed behind the columns of soldiers marching along the sloping road from the fort down to the beach where the townspeople still stood. America could hear women weeping and the men stood with drooping shoulders staring sadly into the sand. "Good morning everyone, buck up! The lieutenant here has made a very wise decision this morning and surrendered the fort to us. There will be no more fighting as long as you all understand that you can continue to stay here and go on living your lives ... such as they are in this godforsaken place ... and promise to not raise arms against us, and your lives will all be spared. Sounds smashing to me, what do you all say?"

The shivering crowd looked up at England grinning before them, then there were some quiet murmurs in the crowd leading to a few audible "yes sirs" and "we promises". Then there were gasps and even screams as the indians that had come with the British appeared on the beach, walking out of the fog being burned away by the climbing morning sun.

"Splendid!" England continued, "Then let us proceed! Everyone raise your right hand and repeat after me. I do solemnly swear that from this moment forth I am a loyal British subject of the realm, and will faithfully follow all of it's laws. God save the King!"

Mouths dropped open, everyone stared at England as if he were mad. America's eyes grew wide as well, then they narrowed in rage. "How dare you, you bastard!" He spat at England, who at that very moment kicked at the back of the young country's legs and once again made him fall on his knees.

Then America felt the cold metal of the pistol's barrel against his temple.

England looked over the crowd and shouted "I CAN'T BLOODY HEAR YOU! AGAIN! REPEAT AFTER ME ..." This time more than a few voices rose from the crowd as they repeated the oath, ending with an almost proper shout of "God save the King!" England grabbed America by the shirt collar and dragged him to his feet, spinning him around in time to see the stars and stripes struck from the fort, and the Union Jack rise in it's place. 

"Right!" England exclaimed. "Who's ready for breakfast?"

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note: The Battle of Fort Mackinac took place in the early morning of July 17, 1812; just one month after the United States declared war on the United Kingdom. Lieutenant Hanks nor his small unit of artillerymen had any idea the country was even at war until they found themselves staring up at the ridge above the British built fort at the two cannons pointing down at them. They surrendered immediately and promised to not take up arms against the British for the entire time they held the fort. The townspeople were also allowed to stay on the island provided they didn't fight the British and took an oath declaring themselves British subjects. Only a few refused.


End file.
